


Take Me For A Ride (Strip Me Of My Pride)

by xxjinchuurikixx



Series: Heels, Boy [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Best Friends, Breathless!verse, Eggsy & Roxy Bromance, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Established Relationship, Fluff, High Heels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxjinchuurikixx/pseuds/xxjinchuurikixx
Summary: "Are you recordin' yet?" Eggsy snaps impatiently, but he's still laughing."Yeah, yeah — I've got it.""Bloody hell.""Remember, Eggsy, first one to the corner of East Street and back to the streetlight wins." Roxy tells him, slipping her finger under one of the bands crossing the top of her foot.Eggsy teeters, glancing down at the glittering black heels adorning his feet beneath the hem of his stone-washed jeans. "Oh, Christ," he wheezes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the Traffic song and some old ass memories. Fic inspired by my desire for Eggsy Unwin in heels like god damn.  
> Thanks to my lovely beta [thirstforfirth](http://thirstforfirth.tumblr.com/) for enjoying this fic enough to make me believe I should post it!!  
> Can be read as a stand alone but is part of the Breathless!verse
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr!! [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)  
> -xo, mo

It's a quiet, dull evening late, _late_ at the office when Harry's phone buzzes.

He's been at this for hours, reading through the decoded cryptic documents that Tristan had spent weeks collecting and cracking with Merlin. It turns out the Japanese were just as keen on world domination as the Russians,  if not as flashy or dominant. And, apparently—according to Tristan's rather colourful explanation—they were good at encryption, using different types of kanji, romanji, and katakana to form secret words within documents, forming whole documents themselves within files and files.

The hour is late, and his personal phone is usually only used as a means of contact between himself and Eggsy, who he knows is at home fast asleep in their bed.

 _Their bed_.

He may never get used to that.

So it come as a bit of a surprise, the ringtone that chimes up from his phone is not the glittery bell that alerts him of a message from his darling prince.

He pauses, highlighting the last piece of text on his monitor before he lifts his glasses high enough to rub the space between his eyes. Finally, he picks his slender smart phone up off the desk.

Funnily enough, it's from Roxanne.

His brow quirks over his eyepatch.

Reaching his free arm across the desk, he holds down the zero on his Kingsman landline phone. "Merlin?"

" _How can I help, Arthur?"_ The Scott's voice replies, sounding thicker in accent due to the lateness of the hour and, most likely, a lack of sleep and heavy intake of coffee.

"Do you know why Miss Morton would be texting me at such a late hour?" Harry asks.

 _"Roxy?"_ Merlin asks, suddenly wide awake, and Harry hears a fluttering of papers. _"R-Rox, I mean, Roxy? Lancelot? At this hour?"_

"Yes, she just sent me a text."

_"Well, what does it say?"_

Harry blinks. "Oh. You know, I haven't actually opened it yet."

_"Gods, man."_

"Working on it," Harry shoots back, then swipes his phone open and types in the password.

_**Hi, Harry! How are you this lovely evening?** _

Ah, that brings a smile to Harry's face. Roxy Morton, Kingsman spy, knighted Lancelot, always texting in proper sentences.

"It says, and I quote, 'Hi, Harry. How are you this lovely evening?'" he says dryly.

_"That's it?"_

"Yes. How do I respond to such a thing?"

" _God, Harry, how_ do _you keep up with a lover as young and energetic as yours? The prince must be downright insatiable,"_ Merlin says snarkily, and Harry glares at the phone.

"Do not call him that."

_"Don't like other people calling him by your little pet name? I assure you, everyone does it, your grace."_

Harry groans lowly, and then his phone chimes again.

_**Sleeping at the desk, are you?** _

Oh, god.

_**No, Roxanne. I'm quite awake.** _

"I texted her back," Harry says.

There is a dreadful static on the other line.

"Merlin?"

_"What did she say?"_

"She asked me if I was awake." The phone dings again. "And now, she wants to know if I'm currently occupied with any hazardous work."

_"Answer honestly."_

Harry snorts in the _most_ gentlemanly manner.

_**No.** _

The phone chimes once more. "She... She says she wants to send me something..."

_"What exactly?"_

_**What exactly?** _

Ding. "A video that will make my night ten-thousand times better." Ding. "It's of the utmost importance, and very entertaining, she says, with a... How do I– with a winking, kissy face."

_"Oh, Harry Hart, you sly bastard."_

"I'm not trying to steal your girl, if that's what you're worried about, Merlin." Harry says lightly.

 _"She is_ not _my_ girlfriend _,"_ Merlin shoots back, sounding utterly mortified.

Harry tuts. "I didn't say girlfriend. Perhaps you prefer the term 'young and energetic lover' then."

He can practically _hear_ Merlin flipping him off.

"Honestly, Merlin, she's not that kind of girl. Whatever it is, it will be entirely appropriate, and I will be ready for it," Harry tells him, then texts Roxy back with the go-ahead. When his phone chimes again there's an attachment beside the text bar, and Harry double-taps it, hoping for the best.

It's incredibly dark at first, and there's quiet shuffling and laughing, like someone trying to prepare a camera after they've already started recording.

 _"My god, this is going to be amazing,"_ Roxy's voice chimes in, and she laughs breathlessly before a deeper voice follows in the sound.

 _"The both of you can just sod right off"_ a voice snaps back, and there's a flicker of light.

"Eggsy?" Harry gasps, for he would know that voice anywhere. He would know that voice dead, lying in his coffin as it spoke soft words to his headstone.

 _"Harry?"_ Merlin asks suddenly, and Harry watches as the camera tilts, and Roxy comes into view.

The hour is late, Harry can tell, as behind her the city is a mess of tangible shadows and street lamps. She's wearing a summery dress, a lovely slip of a thing, the softest of rose pink with lace sleeves and a fairy's idea of a skirt swishing about her knees.

 _"Ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure, I present to you, Eggsy Unwin, free of charge,"_ she says triumphantly, and throws her arms out for the camera to follow.

 _"Harry, what's going on?"_ Merlin demands, exasperated, and Harry can't fight down the surprised smile that is climbing across his lips with honeyed slowness.

A long pause ensues.

“Can’t talk, Merlin. I have a terribly important matter to attend to.”

**

Eggsy has some regrets.

He regrets sneaking out of the house at night, worrying his mum, only to come home to a black-eye from Dean. He regrets saying hurtful things to Harry Hart the day he couldn't shoot JB. He regrets letting Harry leave him, and then watching him die on camera. He regrets not letting Harry explain things when they could have been fixed before they got worse, regrets not just saying how he felt. He regrets that it took them so long to fucking be honest and be in love.

Now that that's all been fixed, he regrets letting Harry be the one to buy the bread; regrets choosing that lavender fabric softener that, apparently, Harry's allergic to; regrets all these little things that Harry just kisses away in the early evening hours...

Rather, one should say, Eggsy has _had_ some regrets, and is now living a life regret free, thanks to the unwavering adoration of his perfect boyfriend.

But Eggsy knows the second it slips from his mouth, he's going to have a regret that Harry won't be able to kiss away... Not easily, anyhow.

It had been a fine evening in at his mum's house, playing cards and drinking a bit of cheap, perfectly delicious beer with Roxy and Jamal. After all, not even Jamal has seen his place with Harry, and it seems like it would be a sin to tarnish it with any aspect of his past. Not that he's not a good bruv, just that Eggsy doesn't want anything mucking things up in the tiny spot of the world that exists solely for him and Harry — and occasionally Daisy.

His mother and Daisy are already asleep upstairs, and at whatever hour it is, all sounds of traffic and neighbourhood merriment have died down. JB abandoned them when the youngest Unwin was ready for bed, preferring the sound of her quiet breathing to the murmured curses and sounds of pound notes being crumpled in defeat down in the living room.

Kingsman brought all sorts of good into his life, but one of Eggsy's favourite things was Roxy's ability to adapt to any situation and be completely comfortable by his side. He needed her there. His mother loved the girl to bits after Christmas left them feeling all chummy, and his best mate was downright smitten with her.

Roxy's charm had that way with people.

What started the conversation, however, was not a comment from Eggsy, but rather one from Roxy about the day's proceedings.

"God, I bloody hate breaking in new heels," she mutters, laying down her cards on the coffee table. "Black Jack," she says before taking a swig of beer and rubbing the back of her bare heel.

"You have gotta be cheatin'," Jamal grumbles, throwing three pounds at her before he folds his hand face-down. "Shit, cuz."

Eggsy laughs. Sprawled across the sofa as he is, his friends sitting on the floor look a little lopsided. "She's not cheatin'. She's just that good. Ain't you, Rox?" he goads sweetly, and it earns him the finger he was expecting as he flicks her a fiver.

"Keep it to yourself, sofa hog."

"I offered to let you sit here with me." He shrugs, looking down at himself.

The length of his body has never fit on one of his mother's sofas before. This one, however, is downright perfect, if he just lets his bare feet slide off the last cushion. His legs look miles long in his skinny jeans, and he's wearing one of Harry's casual shirts. It's the black, button-down flannel, soft as sin, smelling of Harry so strongly that it almost makes Eggsy regret wearing it.

Jamal, of course, is wearing a hoodie several sizes too big for him and jeans that seem too loose to be comfortable, but he is ever comfortable in his slouchy attire.

"If you's gonna complain, don't wear them shoes, then," Eggsy says as he sits up on his elbow, propping himself up so he can take a swig of beer that tastes like shit compared to the champagne Harry treats him to frequently.

Jamal gives him a look. "Don’t do it, cuz."

Roxy gives him a look as well, this one a bit rougher, skeptical in its graceful twist of her mouth and the furrow of her brows. "What was that, Unwin?"

He tilts his beer down towards her shoes, sitting discarded beside the coffee table leg. The roses printed on the soft canvas of her sky-blue shoes match the colour of her sundress, lacy sleeves and flowy skirt a perfect accent to her skin and the fairness of her brunette hair. Eggsy never really liked black on her, but god, Roxy could wear a bin bag and look mint, no lie.

"Don't wear 'em if they hurt. You know they's gonna hurt, but you girls always insist on strappin' up your heels an'd trottin' around like pretty ponies," he muses. "They look cute an' all, but is it worth it?"

Roxy's expression pinches, then shifts, and suddenly, she's smiling. "My dear, sweet Eggsy... I can do everything you can do, and I can do it while wearing these shoes." She picks up one pump by the toes, pointing the heel at his face.

Eggsy snorts. "Please, I could run you down the street, not breakin’ a sweat in those. It's not as hard as it seems, if you girls go trottin' about in 'em all the days of your lives."

Roxy grins, and on the other side of the table Jamal groans and covers his face by pulling the brim of his beanie down. "I'll be right back."

Without another word, Roxy springs up, and she's gone for the better part of an hour.

She comes back at—now knowing the time—nearly one in the morning, and Eggsy gawks at her when she drops a champagne colored box with scrawling script across the lid onto his stomach.

"Fuck!" he exclaims, having been working off his buzz with half-asleep thoughts of Harry curling his arms around him.

Jamal is sitting in the armchair across from the sofa, and he stares at the box and lifts a finger. "Where'd you get those at this hour?"

"I have a friend who has a friend. That's besides the point — these were just awaiting pick-up," Roxy explains. "Get up, Unwin."

Eggsy does as he's said without being told again, and he slides the box into his lap and reads the word _Louboutin_ on the lid. His eyes nearly pop out of his head. "What in the–"

"You think you can outrun _me_ around the block in _these_ shoes?" she says defiantly, cocking her hip and placing her hand on it, ponytail swishing like a lion's mane.

Eggsy continues to gape at her, his brows furrowed.

"We're going to test that theory," Roxy says through a devil's grin, and then she turns and pats Jamal's thigh. "Get up, Jamal. This is happening."

"That box–"

"Custom made, love. It was supposed to be a birthday prank, but I'm not waiting a minute longer."

" _Wicked,_ " Jamal snickers, pulling his trousers up as he follows Rox towards the front door. "You're in for it now, cuz!"

"I don't even know what the fuck is goin’ on!" Eggsy calls, then hisses at himself for being so loud.

"Cuz, just open the fuckin’ box!" Jamal says with a laugh, and the front door swings shut quietly on its hinges.

Eggsy groans loudly, exasperated, and shakes the box in his hands. "Bloody hell, what could–" Realization sinks through him like hot water on snow, and Eggsy feels it pool in his gut and tug him down towards the earth.

His bare feet suddenly ache, and his mouth is a bit dry.

"No..."

He snaps the lid off the box.

"NO!" he shouts at Roxy, the Louboutin pumps dangling from his index finger by their strap. The soles are red as blood under the glow of the streetlight, and the flecks of glitter inlaid into the black of the heels shine like tiny stars.

"You said you could," Roxy tells him innocently, examining her manicured nails for flaws in the polish.

Of course, there are none.

"You have _got_ to be takin' the piss. I'm not wearin' these, Rox. By the way, _what the fuck?_ Why, _why_ do you have a pair of Louboutin shoes in my size?" Eggsy’s voice is a little hoarse from the exerting task of trying to scream while whispering.

Roxy shrugs. "They’re a bespoke gift for you. You’re welcome, dove. Those shoes aren't cheap."

"I think they're gonna look well lush, Eggsy." Jamal snickers, one arm wrapped across his waist like he just can't fucking get over what's happening.

Eggsy shakes the shoes like a threat, and the heels clack together. " _Fuck off!"_

"Hey! Careful with those. They're not exactly winged Adidas, I know, but have some respect for the craft, will you?" Roxy chides. "When someone hands you a pair of shoes with a red sole, you do _not_ go shaking them around like some leathery old trainers."

"Rox, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I said anythin' about the shoes, and I appreciate the joke." He laughs dryly. "But I just–This ain't happenin'."

"Admit defeat then, Unwin." She challenges. "Get down on one knee and admit defeat, like a good _Kingsman Tailor_." He feels it under his skin. This is no longer a challenge from Roxy to Eggsy. This is Lancelot and Excalibur — knight to knight, sword to sword.

_Fuck._

Eggsy juts out his chin, glaring the whole time, the stare-down between him and Roxy unfaltering. There's no way he can back down. He'd never hear the end.

Eggsy sits down,  brings one knee up, and proceeds to stuff his foot into the glittery, black heel, the silky insides cushioning against his toes and hugging around his heel. He snaps the band up over his Achilles tendon and bites his lip before he follows suit with the other foot.

How has it come to this?

"Fuck that. Eggsy Unwin never backs down," he says boldly, wiggling his toes until the balls of his feet are settled snugly into the closed toe cushion and his feet feel like they fucking _belong_ in those shoes. "Never, no... _Fuck_." He whispers the last bit, squeezing his hands into fists until his knuckles burn white.

An idea clicks in his head.

"Document this."

"What was that?" Roxy asks, still in a tiny fit of shock at seeing Eggsy Unwin in heels at all.

"Film this shit. I'm not doin' this for nothin'. I'm gonna run your arse to the corner of East Street, back to the streetlight, and I'm gonna do it in these fuckin' ridiculously classy heels," Eggsy says, turning his foot this way and that to admire the glittering flecks.

Roxy laughs aloud, and Jamal practically bends double. "Are you sure about that?"

"I want this on film. I want documentation."

Roxy snickers and reaches over her head to tug her ponytail tighter. "Alright, fine with me. Jamal, if you would," she says before pulling her sleek iPhone out of her bra.

Jamal gapes at the place where the phone was just produced from until Eggsy clears his throat, then he snaps to and takes the phone from Roxy's hand. "Eight, five, sixty-three; Lancelot," she says clearly, and the phone unlocks with a trill.

"Whoa, how the–"Jamal starts.

"New voice recognition technology, darling. Only works if I say it. Alright, then, Unwin. Ready when you are."

"How do you even...?" Jamal asks, and when the screen gets to the video feed, he presses the red button and fumbles the phone about a bit, not really sure where the camera lens is.

Maybe it's inappropriate, but Roxy laughs as she reaches out and takes Jamal's wrist to help him right the phone.

"My god, this is going to be amazing," she says, and Jamal titters, turning to look at Eggsy as he manages to get himself to his feet.

He wobbles dangerously, and they both laugh harder, but he can't find it in himself to be angry. In fact, he feels rather elated.

"The both of you can just sod right off," he shoots, grinning at them as he steps onto the pavement.

Damn, he feels taller, and powerful. To be completely honest, Eggsy feels downright sexy. He looks down at the shoes, the black a stark contrast to the honey-kissed pale of his skin and the stone-washed blue of his jeans.

Got it, Jamal mouths, and he tilts the camera up so Roxy can see the tiny white dot glowing beside the lens eye. She's in focus.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure, I present to you, Eggsy Unwin, free of charge!" she says triumphantly, voice brimming with pride, and she throws her arm to the side for Jamal to follow.

The camera lands on Eggsy, standing on the pavement with one hand on a cocked hip, golden hair feathered wildly about his head, and his ankles crossed to show off the Louboutins on his feet.

"Cheers, love," he says boldly, the camera instantly dusting his fears and inhibitions away.

"Oh, aren't you a looker," Roxy tells him, sauntering over to tap him on the nose. "Go on then, Eggsy, give us a twirl."

Eggsy rolls his eyes and manages to give a graceful spin before cocking his hip again. He snickers then stretches his arms high over his head and dips forward, touching his fingertips easily to the glittering toes of the heels.

"Oh, my," Roxy says teasingly.

Jamal whistles. "Bet your boyfriend loves your gymnast past, yeah?"

Eggsy springs upright again. "Why you gotta be like that, huh? Can't just say, 'wow Eggsy, you’s so flexible?' Gotta mention Harry."

"We know you was thinkin' it." Jamal shrugs.

Roxy sighs, eyeing him up and down almost hungrily. "What I wouldn't give to see you in a wig and sequins."

"What I wouldn't give to get the fuck outta these shoes," Eggsy gripes.

Jamal snickers loudly and pans the camera from Eggsy's face down to his shoes, slowing over all the good bits in between, which, honestly, is everything.

"Are you recordin' yet?" Eggsy snaps impatiently, but he's still laughing. He rolls up his sleeves and pins them in place, his gut tumbling at the scent of Harry's cologne wafting up to brush his nose.

God, what would his lover think if he could see him like this; wearing one of his shirts, clad in glittering high heels from one of the most expensive brands at nearly one in the morning?

"Yeah, yeah — I've got it."

" _Bloody hell_."

"Remember, Eggsy, first one to the corner of East Street and back to the streetlight wins," Roxy tells him, slipping her finger under one of the bands crossing the top of her foot. She looks positively lethal in her lacy little summer dress and her floral patterned heels. Eggsy is quite positive it has nothing to do with the fact that he has seen her pick off a target at ninety yards, or covered in blood that wasn't her own charging through a firefight at top speed.

It's just that she’s a _femme fatale_ in pastel colors with eyes like fresh tea and skin like cream. Roxy doesn’t need a bloody gun and pinstripe suit to be lethal. She’s a knight twenty-four seven.

Eggsy teeters, glancing down at his glittering black heels. "Oh, _Christ,_ " he wheezes.

"Jamal, follow alongside him, will you? The streetlamps should provide enough light for his—they're sure to be—comically pleasing facial expressions," Roxy tells him, and he laughs triumphantly.

"Cuz, I know we been friends a long while, but I have to say, your ankles have never looked better. Swear down,"he says with a wink.

"I'm gonna shank you, bruv. What will your mum say to that?"

"Toss it."

Roxy clears her throat and takes Eggsy's hand, leading him into the middle of the pavement before placing him at a crack. "Here's the starting line. The streetlight is the finish. To East Street and back, that's all."

"I can do it," Eggsy says boldly, pouting despite himself.

She smiles at him brightly, cupping his cheek with a warm hand. "I know you can. But not faster than me."

He snorts.

"Alright, kids, start your engines," Jamal goads. "From the line, to the corner of East Street, back to the streetlight. No cutting corners, no alleyways, and no scaling the sides of buildings — _Eggsy_."

"Not sure I could handle that in these shoes, bruv. I get the gist."

"Alright, alright. Is the lady ready?" He tips his head to Roxy.

She grins and lets go of Eggsy's hand. "Born so."

"And is the..." Jamal titters, "Hairier lady ready?" He tilts his head down to Eggsy's ankles, fine dusting of blond hairs sparse against his skin.

His brows furrow and his mouth falls open in something akin to disgust. "Fuck _off_ , bruv."

"Alright then! Ready? Steady…   _Go!"_

It was one thing for Roxy to challenge Eggsy to a race in heels.

It was another entirely for her to take off at neck-breaking speed, full sprint, to the first intersection before Eggsy can even clippity-clop a few metres.

"Come along then, Excalibur--give it all you've got!" Roxy calls, twisting on her heel to point at the boy long behind her, grinning like the little demon she is. "C'mon, love, keep up with me!"

"Sonova _bitch!_ " Eggsy snaps, and he totters so hard that he has to part his legs and clap his hands on his knees.

"Go on then, cuz! You can do it!" Jamal says encouragingly, tilting the phone down when Eggsy looks up at him.

Through the lens, his eyes are a wicked glow of blue ice and green-gold sparks.

"Fuckin' right, I can!" He snaps back, and then he stands straight up and charges forward.

It's all about the balance, Eggsy finds, clip-clopping along with his arms hugged in tight like little chicken wings.

But it's not enough. He's barely reached the corner when he nearly trips to the ground.

"Don't think about it so hard, Eggsy! Just do it! You're a graceful, strong, very talented being!" Roxy calls from somewhere ahead, and Eggsy curses through his teeth.

"Is there some trick to this _shite?_ "

"Hold your arms out, and take shorter strides! Don't use the heel — it's mostly for show."

"Aw, shit." Eggsy laughs, and then he's off.

He holds his arms out, springing forward on the balls of his feet in bouncing, floundering steps.

"Wow, Eggsy — you're doing better!" Jamal says, and he laughs as he runs sideways, being sure to keep Eggsy in frame.

He's painted in navy and gold, flashes of brilliant white and fades of indigo and coal as he runs from shadow to street light in sequential order.

“You’re doing it, Eggsy!” Roxy exclaims, and Eggsy lifts his head to see her already turned bout, coming back his way. Without thinking, he lifts his hand and accepts the high-fiver she gives him as she passes him.

Maybe it was actually an insult, but he can’t be arsed about having Roxy so far ahead of him when he’s genuinely having a shot-ton of fun.

He's laughing now, the wild little fucker, and Jamal is starting to struggle to keep up with him. "My god, I'm doing it!" he yells, bolting through the darkness, running wild, pumping his arms, heels clacking against the concrete. He stumbles, curves, and then he’s turning back from the corner of East Street, can see Roxy ahead of him, but god, he's gaining on her, and his lungs feel alight and his limbs feel like they could run on like this forever.

He stares down at his feet, watching the heels appear in and out of view, all glittery and dark like he's running on the night sky. Eggsy laughs and laughs, charging forward with a wolfish cry.

"Eggsy, bruv-"Jamal exclaims, and the blond lifts his head in time to see his friend's worry. A car is backing out of a drive a few houses ahead, blocking the expanse of the pavement. To the left, the curb is littered with parked vehicles, and to the right, shrubbery and fences.

He doesn't have time to think — he just jumps...

And tucks and rolls over the fence line of the gated flat right before the car's glossy hood, flipping through the grass and sprawling across the lawn with a grunt as the air is knocked out of him.

"OH, _SHIT!_ " Jamal shouts, and somewhere, in the vague distance, Roxy is laughing her arse off.

**

Harry jolts forward in his seat, gaping down at his phone. “Oh my _god_ , Eggsy!”

His office door swings open and Merlin pushes in. “Harry, what in God’s name--”

He’s cut off by Harry’s insistent shushing, waving his hand at Merlin while keeping his eyes on his phone. “I’ll send it to you later if you insist, but right now, I have to make sure my boyfriend is alive.”

Merlin’s brows shot up, and his mouth fell open. He hugged his tablet to his chest and sighed. “I… Christ.”

He’s gone without Harry’s acknowledgement, and Harry brings his phone closer to his face as if that will help him see better.

When the camera stops jostling, he can see Eggsy sprawled out in the grass laughing.

**

Eggsy's first thought is, 'did Jamal get that on camera?' The second is, 'are the shoes okay', and, really, it shouldn't sit with him so well that he's honestly concerned about the shoes when his jaw is stinging like a bitch and his shoulder feels busted to hell.

He presses his hands against the grass and lifts himself up, laughing breathlessly, a dry, croaking sound as he finds the will inside of him to catch his breath.

"Come on, Eggsy, you're nearly there!" Roxy calls to him, and he kneels up and sits back, admiring the teal-fired frog statue sitting beside a rose bush not three feet from him.

Beside it is a garden gnome, pointed hat firetruck red, little rake at his side.

He looks to be judging Eggsy quite harshly as the blond pants, hands trembling, knees aching.

"Fuck off, bruv," he growls, and pushes to his feet.

"Eggsy — are you alright, cuz?" Jamal asks from the gate of the front garden.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Gotta finish this, bruv."

"Roxy already beat your arse bloody."

"I'm not gonna give up. I'll finish this with the single shred of dignity I have left." He dusts himself off and climbs over the fence, landing with a light-footed click.

"Attaboy, Eggsy!" Jamal tells him triumphantly, and he huffs out a laugh and starts skipping along, arms out, strides short.

"S'not about speed anymore," he says quietly.

Roxy laughs in the glow of the streetlight. "I suppose not, seeing as I've already won!"

"You may have won the race, but you haven't won my face!"

"That makes zero sense, love," she shoots back, and Jamal whoops as Eggsy prances into the light, giving a very graceful spin before he bows. "Bravo, lovely. Just bravo."

Eggsy claps his hands on his knees and wheezes, shaking his head back and forth. "Hardest fuckin' thing I've ever had to do, bruv." He holds his hand out and Roxy gives him a low five, beaming like a Christmas tree.

"Well, go on. Admit defeat for the camera," she tells him brightly, and Eggsy huffs.

He stands up straight, the light casting a halo across his golden hair, making his eyes gleam with crescents of pale silver. Eggsy grins at the camera as Jamal holds it up to his face, snickering as he gets a beautiful close up.

"My name is Eggsy Unwin, and I cannot outrun Roxanne Morton in heels." With that, he throws his hand down and Jamal follows it to the heels still cuffing his feet, and Eggsy giggles, twisting one foot this way and that in the most feminine manner he can manage.

"That’s it, cuz," Jamal tells him, then brings the camera back up to his face as Roxy slings her arm over his shoulders and grins.

"And that is feminine equality, gentlemen," she says before she presses a smacking kiss to Eggsy's cheek.

"I could outrun you in normal shoes, though!" he shouts, and their argument turns into a cacophony of laughter, and Jamal nearly drops the phone before he manages to quit the recording.

**

It's only about an hour later when Eggsy calls it a night. Jamal heads home and Eggsy walks JB with Roxy until they have to go their separate ways. Roxy is sure by the time she gets home Eggsy has already stripped to his underwear and crashed into bed with his pug.

Roxy's sitting up in bed, replaying the evening mentally over and over.

She watches the video once, changes the filter so that everything is brighter, and bites back her laughter when Eggsy goes barreling over the fence line into the grass. It’s funnier from behind; the grace, the finesse, the awful noise Eggsy makes as his legs kick wildly and Jamal shrieks.

She texts Jamal that she's incredibly impressed with his ability to keep the camera steady whilst running after Eggsy.

Chewing on her lip, she lets her thumb hover over the glowing green icon on her phone. She thinks of Eggsy, probably curled up with too many blankets, hair a mess, so innocent with sleep. So unaware of her late-night-hour intentions.

Roxy grins, a bit too devilishly for the late hour and the lack of living souls to see it, and she ducks her head and adjusts the video's format before saving it to her Kingsman drive.

Then she opens a new text screen and types out:

_**Hi, Harry! How are you this lovely evening?** _

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the prelude to some smut. So... yeah, be lookin out for the smut.  
> Also, girl power! You go, Roxy. Bitch, I can barely run in heels anyway, so good effort on Eggsy's part.
> 
> Eggsy's heels <3  
> 
> 
> Keep a look out for the smut, kiddos!!
> 
> Thank you as always, my pretty, patient darlings!


End file.
